


Meal Plan

by Dribbledscribbles



Category: The Magnus Archives
Genre: Don't worry, Just a sad thought I had and felt like sharing, M/M, You're Welcome, it's bite-sized
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:49:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23964166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dribbledscribbles/pseuds/Dribbledscribbles
Summary: A conversation held in a cozy cabin.
Relationships: Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood
Comments: 8
Kudos: 184





	Meal Plan

“Jon?” 

“Mm?”

“How well do you feed on paper statements? Like, how much do they really do for you, diet-wise?”

“Ah, not as much as I’d like. The closest thing I can compare it to is dietary supplements. Less food and more, you know, powder with all the vitamins and proteins mixed in.” Jon had made what he’d hoped was a comical face of disgust. “Taste just as dry too.”

Martin had hummed. His eyes no longer moved on his book.

“Live statements,” he said, “those were more like real food?”

“Like—yeah, like it used to be for me. Much as I can still, you know, process ‘real food,’ I’m starting to lose it once it gets past the teeth.”

“What? How do you ‘lose’ food?”

“I mean all the stuff that made it food to me is starting to fade. Less flavor when I bite in, less mass actually filling my stomach. If I, ah, still have an ordinary stomach. I-I read a statement once, about Albrecht von Closen, and he—it—,” a hard swallow from Jon, “it didn’t end well for him. Inside him, his anatomy had changed. A lot.” A forced laugh. “Best not to get an x-ray anytime soon. It’d probably give the radiologist a heart attack.”

“Oh.” More pensive quiet. No turning of pages. “Jon?”

“Yes?”

“How many statements are there in the Archives?”

Jon had Beheld the Knowledge, the exact number coming directly into his head with hardly a strain, and he’d nearly opened his mouth to say it. Nearly. He’d looked to Martin who was still staring at the unturned page. 

“…Why do you ask?”

“Curious.”

“Why are you curious?”

“Well, between the investigation and the rarity of witnesses coming in to give real statements to begin with, I can’t imagine it’ll be an infinite supply. Not a healthy one either, if your appetite really is getting bigger. You went through three yesterday before you felt full.”

“I can pare it down. Go on a diet.”

“Jon, you’re a scarecrow as it is. Any more dieting and you’ll blow away in a strong breeze.”

“Don’t give the Vast ideas.”

“Don’t avoid the subject.”

“What subject?”

“If—,” Martin started, stopped. Restarted: “If a paper statement was written immediately after the writer experienced it, would that be a closer equivalent to a live statement?”

“In my experience, yes. So long as the statement was from present day and not some backlog from earlier years. Why?”

“Would it matter if—if it was the same person giving multiple statements? Just experiencing a bunch of scary run-ins with the Fears? Even if they, ah, sought them out? Hypothetically?”

“Martin.”

“Would it work with live sta—?”

“ _Martin._ ”

Martin had quieted. They’d looked at each other, measuring just how much resistance there was in the others’ face. How much they’d have to wheedle or coax or fight past to make the other give in. Neither of them saw easy battles. 

“No,” from Jon.

“It’s a possibility.”

“It is not.”

“A last resort, then. If we can’t figure another—,”

“We will.”

“Maybe. But it’s always good to have a plan B.”

“That isn’t plan B. It isn’t even plan Z. Because that is not an option.”

“Neither is you risking your life, getting chewed up by eldritch horrors that have no right to exist in a sane world, and dragging me out of another dimension, just for you to kill yourself by refusing to eat what’s available—Jon? Jon.” 

Jon had been out of the bed, then the room. Martin had followed him out to the porch. There had been no row, no proper shouting. Not even talk. Martin had just folded himself around Jon like a towering shawl and held him tight. Jon had turned against him and embraced back. Another look, another bout of measuring each other. Still no ground given. No easy victories.

But those battles weren’t for now. 

Now was here, far and safe. Now was the heavy packet of statements still being consumed beside the fireplace, others to come. Hundreds, Jon would tell Martin later. Thousands. Honest. There was time. Martin would not disagree. They would not look at each other then.

In the end, it won’t matter. The Change would come and remove all thought of succor. That didn’t matter either.

They’d held onto the now as long and as hard as they could. 

Neither of them craving anything beyond the circle of their arms.


End file.
